The First Time was a Dance
by bacchus.paine
Summary: An unparalleled town festival from the Queen's perspective, and the Ecstasy that results when the slow and tortuous motions between Emma and Regina come to a boil...


[From Queen's perspective]

Until the shots rang out the night was naught but Eden. A party in the streets of the town the likes of which had never been seen before. Everyone drinking, reveling. Myself included. And we were close enough that I thought I could feel the air move when Emma's hips swayed.

The beat pervasive, dancers sprung up around us. I turned to find Robin swaying his abs against his t-shirt in time with the tempo of the closest DJ's music, inaudibly accompanied with dissipating tones, impoverished by distance, from the other nine soundtrucks and stages, all of which had been effectively overwhelmed.

I had a second pulse. My intoxicants had dampened my senses to the point where the sensation of pressure from the music matched the sensation of pressure from my heartbeat. Closing and opening my eyes, I spied the outline of a faraway familiar face, beginning to dance. Her shoulders somehow led a larger movement of her hips, which swung back at the perfect moment, their flats lifting forward and up, her movements precise as her unbound arms swayed her breasts lasciviously.

My eyes closed again. Hook had widened his movements.

And again, a boy danced with Robin from behind, as he peered over his shoulder to assess. I caught Emma's eye and she smiled back, and as a result I started to dance timidly, awkwardly.

I returned my gaze to Robin, who looked at me as though he was prepared to be rid of his suitor, so I reached out my arm to him, and he took my hand, and we began to get _down_. We'd nearly drowned two fifths, the group of us, but that didn't stop everyone from swigging as they swaggered.

Robin maneuvered me to ride his thigh, and we bucked rhythmically, my chest lying into his hard, prosperous, burgeoning abs. His arm around my back and mine around his, and we pushed into one another.

"Have I ever told you you're a beautiful gay man?" I asked him.

"Somewhat."

And we continued dancing.

I pulled back a bit, temperature rising, as I watched Hook move in my peripheral vision toward Emma, flanked as she was by her roommates.

I looked up at Hook and he looked back, and then he pulled back from Emma as well. We widened our steps from each other, and moved toward the group, turning toward Hook and away from Robin, diverting him by reaching out for his shoulder, beginning to dance with him. Robin couldn't match Hook's musculature or his rhythm, but he had a bitchin' body with abs of its own and big, strong hands with long-reaching fingers.

On we went, our bodies lifting and swaying with one another. I kept his breadth to the side of the group, and I watched over Hook's shoulder as Robin began to dance with Emma just as he had with me. _Almost there_.

Upon the second change of song, I parted from Hook, and it was as though Robin had already parted with her, and we all began to dance individually for a while. She wore a fitting tanktop over perky impending breasts, which bounced up and down in glorious harmony as she wiggled, her hair undulating with the music. My eyes could but look upon her face, though, in its sharp, soft magnificence, and soon she looked up at me. I am sure it was a look of wanting emanating from me, but her eyes gripped mine without reservation. We were moving then in the same rhythm, looking into each other from three feet away.

By now any one of us, or any one of the swaying masses surrounding us, could easily be blackout drunk. Necks were loose and steps were uncertain and balance was faulty and reaction to the drumming around us embellished. The four of us stood in slight disjunction from the others, pressing inward amongst us.

Robin stepped into Hook's legs and got low, bucking from a wide squat, then slowly moved back and forth through his hips up into Hook's chest. Hook matched his pace.

I was vaguely aware that Robin had moved in as I looked at Emma, and suddenly I felt my foot step between hers. I matched her tempo, and we moved immeasurably toward each other. I let my fingertips fall against her leg, resting on her tensing quad, lifting resistantly with its movements. I let the contact guide me into her, and finally I felt her thighs contact mine at once. The air between us pulsed with the waves formed by our hips, rolling together, correcting our differences in rhythm with proximity.

Through my fingers on her thigh I experienced a rush of electricity, as tough all heat began there. I felt I was speaking in the touch with a pulse of my own, and I inhaled her fruity heat, letting my forehead fall into her hair, and feeling, in a scalding wave of arousal, her hand wrap around my waist. We fell together, my nipples searing into hers, the uppermost crease of my thigh sliding inward across her sex, grinding into it, trailing my clit up her quad.

Time had stopped. It could have been a minute or an hour, I don't know, that I was engulfed in thrashing ecstasy with her, her air filling my lungs, her scorching, pliable breasts clasped between mine, when our hands began to purposefully explore one another. As we moved I took her ribcage in my palms and pulled my elbows back and ground against her, and she slipped her hands along the ridges of my ass cheeks, steadying herself against them, pressing her warm crotch into my hip.

Hip to hip we circled, as the beats pulsing around us slowed their pace, and in time with the music we thrusted against one another, slowly, tortuously, each pulse against her discharging an excruciating bliss through my engorged sex and up into my torso, flowing upward to pool at the back of my head. My chin curled around her neck, continuing the movements of our hips, up through writhing cores and across our reaching shoulders. The world steamed around me, and I could feel the music and the rapture of our tango pounding in every measure of my body as I felt her pace speed, as I felt her slit grind harder into my thigh. In and out we went into each other, and I must have moaned faintly as she purred when she pressed herself harder into me.

Each of us flattened pulling palms across steadily shifting spines, surges of power flowing outward from the beats and peaks in the music, our motions growing urgent, sharply inhaling, brashly ramming our bodies together. I grew harder and harder against her, insistently crashing into her when she challenged me with a quickening plunge of her hips. We were sweating, my eyes closed into her hair, our bodies grinding against one another, when her hand crawled downward to cup my ass, and she rushed her clit toward it. She moved against me clumsily, hastily, as I rubbed back and forth across her dancing thigh. The frenzy between my thighs began to focus, collecting into a pea of ecstasy in its center, my eyes rolling backward beneath closed lids, and, when I felt her buck against me thrice and begin to fall limp, the tensing of her quad under my building ecstasy burst it open, and the orgasm flushed through my body and into hers.

Our thighs clutched together in absentminded weakness, our bodies leaning into one another limply, and we let 20 beats of the music pass that way, stilled now despite the cadence continuing around us.

My chin rested against the back of her neck, her hair falling around my face, my arms sliding down from where they had been clasping her back, and I felt the gods draw my jawline back across hers, grazing the soft skin of her cheek with mine, drawing my lips up to hers.

We jumped against each other at the sound of the gunshot.

She dropped her chin to her chest abruptly, and she placed a hand against my shoulder and pushed it away as both of our heads turned to the sound, and the searing cacophony of the shot was followed by three more shots just like it. I fell backward away from her reluctantly, head swimming in a thousand thoughts, the contact with her body an absorbing phantom. _My god_.

"My god…I…I need to go to bed. I need to go," she stuttered to the pavement.

"Emma—"

"I need to go." Eyes still downcast, she turned away and began walking away from the intersection.

"Emma! Not right…wait!"

But she was already running.

*** This moment is part of a much longer work, which uses different names and a much deeper story. You can find it by causing your chosen device to search No Church in the Wild by Bacchus Paine on Amazon, iBookstore, or Kindle.


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